Speaking in Tongues
by flecksofpoppy
Summary: In which I write Ronald for the first time, Alan makes a friend, and Eric learns some new vocabulary. AlanxEric Alan/Eric


This fic is sort of set in the universe of this really long Alan/Eric fic I've been working on and the first time they acknowledge their feelings for each other. That bad boy isn't done. (It's legit like 500 words away from being done, but it's just not happening right now.)

Nevertheless, I really wanted to post some Alan/Eric, because if I leave it on my hard drive any longer, I'm going to lose my mind. And since I'm finally done with this one, here is my first toss into the ALAN/ERIC ring.

P.S. Grell being bad ass and helping out Ronald is a shared head canon with my brah, deadcellredux.

* * *

**Speaking in Tongues**

Eric Slingby is in a strange mood, and Alan doesn't know what to make of it.

They're at the pub and most of the division is present, a bit of a party but nothing terribly out of the ordinary; but somehow Alan senses something awry. Eric is uncharacteristically quiet, introverted, and drinking his beer slowly.

It's been almost a year since they first got together; of course, a year to reapers is more like a month than how a human being might view it. Still, although they both know how the other feels, there's that pesky detail of how to live it out.

Not much has changed. They're still partners, still work together, still spend almost all of their time together.

What's changed is that instead of saying goodnight to Eric at his door, Alan says goodnight in his bed, with Eric's arms around him and then quiet words and thoughts Eric will share only with him in the dark. The caress of fingers over a cheek; tender, raw things in the nighttime.

And then there's Eric as everyone else knows him - loud, brash, cocky, though not uncaring - the whole package.

Other things the whole package includes: womanizing, promiscuity, and drinking.

These are all things that Alan accepted long ago, and he doesn't wants to try and change them; doesn't think he could anyway. He wants Eric as he is, as Alan has known him from the start.

_"You can go with her, do what you always do. It's fine with me_," Alan had said. And he had meant it. After a certain amount of time and experience, he had stopped feeling threatened by the women that flirted with Eric, batted their eyelashes and laid a wayward hand on his arm in public, promising more touching in a different way later.

It's not that Alan _likes _it, but if it's part of being with Eric (whatever that means, of course), then he can live with it.

Tonight, the pub they're in is rather packed. They had a huge reap, and William T. Spears had offered to pay for the after party from his budget (as he sometimes did when he needed to wave significant incentives in front of Collections).

For once, they're not on the living plane. The favorite local pub that they all usually end up at (some dark joke about how grim reapers drinking with those that they'll reap eventually is just too good to pass up) is probably rather empty tonight.

This is a reaper pub; and because of that, it's not really a pub so much as a very clean, very simple drinking establishment. (Read: dull.) Even retired reapers seemed to gravitate toward the living world, something so grotesque yet alluring about it.

Alan smiles a little over his glass of wine as Eric moodily drinks his pint.

"What?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

Eric looks up at him, as if startled out of his reverie, and then he smiles, shrugging.

"Not a thing," he says simply. "Tired from a job well done."

Alan fights the urge to touch him, and Eric just looks down again to stare into his beer. Although most everyone _knows_ what's going on, they try to keep their relationship behind closed doors, at least in front of their co-workers.

At that moment, a rather pretty girl from General Affairs comes over and wedges herself right in between Eric and Alan, shifting her hips against the side of Eric's chair.

It's obvious that they've had relations, and Alan just moves away a few inches.

"Eric Slingby," she says in a melodic voice, "I haven't seen you since the last after party."

Eric immediately blushes, but he's staring at Alan, as if embarrassed. Alan just shrugs at him and smiles a little, as if to say, "_It's fine_."

The anxiety in Eric's face lessens, and finally he relaxes and turns his attention back to the girl.

They become lost in conversation, and just as Alan is getting ready to stand up and find someone else to talk to, there's the heavy sound of someone next to him plunking down into a chair and sighing.

He looks over to see the newest junior reaper, Ronald Knox, with a disappointed look on his face and a half-finished pint in his hand.

Alan stops and stays where his, looking at Ronald expectantly.

"Bloody women," he says suddenly, exasperated. "Don't get me wrong mate, I haven't gone off them, but they're a fickle lot really."

Alan's eyebrows raise at the abrupt declaration, and he turns his attention fully to Ronald.

"Are they?" he asks, taking a sip of his wine.

"They bloody well are," Ronald huffs. "Now, I got me a right nice bird down in General, supposed to meet me here tonight. You know how they are about reapers, whether you're a junior _or _senior."

He gives Alan a rather charming half smirk that's both lecherous and endearing, and then sighs and puts his head in his hand.

"But honestly," he continues, taking a rather long sip of his beer, "it's not as if I proposed. She had a right strop just now, telling me that-" and Ronald's voice gets shrill in a poor imitation of a woman's voice, "-'if you just want to shag every slag around then you've got another thing coming'."

Ronald snorts. "Not as if I reaped her cat or some such, just had a nice little quiet chat over a cuppa with her fit coworker. How was I to know they despise the likes of one another?"

At this point, Alan is just staring at him, strangely compelled to listen to Ronald's fateful tale of drama, like some sort of strange Greek tragedy.

"You're Humphries, yes?" Ronald asks, finishing his beer.

"Yes, I am," Alan says, finally getting his mouth to work.

"Heya, another round for myself and my mate here, if you don't mind!" Ronald calls to the bartender, plastering on that charming smile again.

The bartender takes kindly to him, and their drinks come out rather quickly.

"You're not a senior?" Ronald asks.

Alan smiles subtly and shakes his head. "No, not quite."

"Eh, I should be takin' advice from that one," Ronald says, pointing behind Alan.

Alan turns his head to see Eric with his arm slung around the same girl's shoulders who had approached before, their faces very close as they laugh together about something.

"That would be a wise choice," he says, turning back to Ronald. "He's quite adept with...the ladies."

Ronald laughs softly, but leans in rather conspiratorially to say quietly, "Ain't no ladies round here," casting his gaze subtly toward the girl standing next to Eric.

Even Alan laughs a little at that.

"Cheers, mate," Ronald says, clinking his glass against Alan's. "You're alright."

"Nice to meet you, Ronald," Alan replies, feeling a smile cross his face. Ronald really isn't a bad sort at all; in fact, he's rather amusing, and lighthearted in a way that not many reapers are.

* * *

Eric can barely hear what the woman whose name he can't remember is saying.

She's laughing, delicate hands on his arm that are becoming more and more familiar with each glass of wine she drinks.

Normally, he'd be turning toward her, letting her touch him in this dance he knows so well; watching as she steals looks at his body and the open collar of his shirt.

But now, all he can do is stare over her shoulder when she's not looking.

Alan is talking to someone new, someone he's never seen. He's got a bizarre hairstyle and looks rather young - a junior - and for a moment, unexpectedly, Eric feels the urge to find his file and reassign him to Siberia.

_No, no. That's no good. Focus on...what's her name..._

"And then I said," she laughs, "you most certainly cannot use a fork as a scythe!"

Eric laughs mechanically, and as he stares past her again, he knows he's been caught.

She's frowning, and he does the first thing he can think of, which is to snap his fingers and pretend he was looking for the bartender.

"Decent night for champagne," he says, "pretty girls, reaps well done. All in all, brilliant."

The frown disappears, and any crossness completely vanishes.

"Oh, how lovely," she cries. "Let's have a toast!"

Eric does not want to make a toast.

"Won't you do the honors," he says, and then smiles slightly. "I'm so awfully shy."

She laughs, shaking her head. "Incorrigible," she says, "you big," - her face gets closer - "silly, handsome man," and then her lips are pressed to his.

Eric reacts instinctually, wrapping his hand around her waist and the other around her shoulder, kissing the way he knows how. It's simple, and lustful, and she's fooled. She draws back and smiles, looking him up and down approvingly.

She's fooled, because all Eric can do is close his eyes and think of-

Alan is laughing with Ronald now, and Ronald buys him a round.

"Would you like to leave?" Eric asks her. "I can think of better things to do than giving silly toasts."

* * *

Alan is laughing now at one of Ronald's stories - half out of disbelief that someone has actually done half of the things that Ronald has, and half because he rather likes his carefree attitude. It's refreshing, and the exact opposite of his own nature.

"Oh look," Ronald grumbles, draining his third pint, "there he goes off into the bloody sunset."

"I suppose so," Alan says, not turning.

"Fit one he's with too," Ronald observes idly, and when his eyes fall back on Alan, Alan knows they've left, and that Eric is gone.

A memory surfaces:

_"I'll just go home," he says, shrugging at Eric easily as they get ready to leave for the after party. "I don't mind. You may need your bed for other-"_

_"No," Eric replies emphatically. "Don't. Just come back to mine. I'll figure something out, should it come to that."_

_Alan just looks at him with a raised eyebrow, confused, but agrees since Eric seems so set on it._

_"Very well."_

"You know," Ronald says, interrupting Alan's memory, "I ain't found a proper bloke as a mate here yet."

"How is that?" Alan asks, taking a sip of his third glass of wine.

"Well," Ronald says, shrugging as if suddenly self conscious, "so far, I'm not sure about the lot in this division. No offense intended."

Ronald doesn't seem like the lonely type at all. But whatever his reason for not making friends, Alan sympathizes.

"It's just a matter of time," he says, smiling. "You just need to get used to it here."

"I was assigned to London without a say," Ronald says, frowning, looking into his empty glass. "My scythe is quite nice, but..."

"So was I," Alan offers.

"Really?" Ronald asks, looking up at him.

"Oh yes," Alan replies, shaking his head. "I had plenty of trouble at first. But I had a mentor which was helpful and-"

_"Alan, oh god, Alan..." Eric's hands against his thighs, lips against his neck, panting and moaning, the first time. "I wanted it for so-"_

"And you found your way then?" Ronald replies, his eyebrows raised hopefully.

"Well, yes," Alan says quietly, "I suppose I did."

"I don't have a mentor," Ronald replies. "Though Senior Sutcliff has been quite helpful."

"Sutcliff?" Alan asks.

"Well, yes. I know, I've heard the stories, but I think he's taken a shine to me."

Ronald is rather handsome in a boyish way; Alan admits to that immediately. No wonder.

"Fair enough," Alan says diplomatically. "He's quite skilled in practical technique."

"He showed me some fantastic stuff!" Ronald crows, motioning for another pint. "And even got me the paperwork for a customized scythe! Though I don't know how he walks around in those...shoes."

Alan liked Ronald initially, but now he's genuinely fond, because Ronald isn't concerned with anybody's business except his own - girls, beer, and customized scythes.

"You got yourself a bit on the side?" Ronald asks, a saucy grin on his face. He's enticing in a naive type of way.

No wonder Grell likes him. Poor Ronald.

"No," Alan says evenly. "No girl."

"No?" Ronald exclaims. "A good looking lad like yourself?!"

"I prefer men," he replies bluntly, and Alan can't help but be amused when Ronald blanches. To his credit however, it's not due to Alan's preferences.

"I didn't mean no harm," he says emphatically. "I mean, you're a good looking bloke and..."

Alan laughs a bit, and Ronald relaxes, a smile creeping across his face.

"No offense taken," he says simply.

Alan hasn't made a real friend in quite a long time.

"How about another round?" he asks, finishing his third glass of wine.

* * *

She's still wondering why they couldn't go back to his flat, but he told her it's because it's so messy he's afraid she'd think him mad.

"Now then," he says, smiling even though it's begun to hurt his face, "how about a nightcap?"

"Oh yes," she swoons, "how perfectly lovely."

He knows it's coming, when she opens the cupboard and turns as if to say something; and then their bodies are pressed against each other, and she sighs.

"Just like before," she says, kissing Eric on his cheek.

_Fingers against his cheek, his neck, his lips, soft and resolute and ohgod..._

"Yes," he says in a low voice, "just like before."

She winds her fingers in his loose hair and kisses his neck.

_"What a mad hairstyle," - fingers there, tracing over braids and then combing through the loose parts - "I wanted to ask about it the day we met."_

He moans, reaching out to unbutton her blouse, reaching in to gently touch her breasts.

_"It feels good here too." Fingers over nipples, an arch of a back, a sharp sigh and-_

"Mm," she says, "Senior Slingby, if I can call you that, please undress me."

Nightcaps are forgotten as Eric undresses her, his hands working as his mind lags.

He does as needed: he undresses her, he lays her down on the bed, he unbuttons his own shirt.

_"Eric, you're beautiful."_

"I can't," he breathes, once he's on top of her, his shirt off. "I can't."

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. "Why not?"

"I just...I'm in love with someone else."

"In love?" she laughs, and rather cruelly at that. "Our kind doesn't...fall in love. Are you mad?"

He doesn't defend himself, just rises and turns to get his shirt.

"Oh, sod this," she says, sitting up and crossing her arms petulantly across her chest.

"I'm sorry," he says, as he pulls on his shoes. "I didn't intend to insult you."

"Oh, Eric," she sighs, raising an annoyed eyebrow and shaking her head, "it's always something with you bloody men."

* * *

Alan parts with Ronald rather pissed, and he stumbles his way back to Eric's flat.

Why exactly he's going there he's not sure. Because he told Eric he would? That doesn't even make sense.

But he still goes, tripping through the doorway after managing to _finally _fit his key in the lock. He kicks off his shoes as he walks across the sitting room, stripping off his jacket and throwing it on the floor.

He's pissed, and he wants nothing more than to fall asleep as he fumbles around in Eric's dresser for a pair of sleep pants. They're much too big, but he gets them on and collapses into the familiar bed.

It's so soft, and the pillow isn't Eric, but he curls up next to it. It smells like Eric at least.

* * *

Eric finds the door unlocked and slightly ajar, and for a moment he's confused until he sees Alan's jacket and shoes cast off to the side.

Apparently Knox can put them away, and he smiles faintly.

He slowly takes off his jacket off and hangs it up, turns and kicks his shoes off with a sigh. What a night.

But then it occurs to him, rather suddenly: Alan is in the other room, just beyond the door.

And then he's yanking his tie over his head and throwing it aside, unbuttoning his shirt urgently, desperate to get it off, leaving a trail of dejected clothing as he goes. All he wants to do is get into bed with Alan and wrap his arms around him.

He's unbuttoning his pants when he opens the bedroom door and stops in his rush. His eyes settle on Alan curled against a pillow in the bed, breathing soundly, asleep.

And Eric never wants to see anything except this - this is perfect. This is what he wants.

He just stands there, watching for a few moments; the way Alan's hair falls over his forehead, the way his shoulders rise with each breath, the way his body is curled into the same position that he usually sleeps in when Eric is there.

When Eric moves to finish taking off his pants though, Alan hears the noise and stirs.

"Eric?" he asks sleepily, and then he rises slightly to blink his eyes in confusion. "Eric."

"I'm here," Eric says softly.

To his surprise, Alan sits straight up now, his back stiff, and swings his legs off the bed.

"I told you I could have just gone home," he says harshly, his voice hurt and defensive as he fumbles for his shirt that's slung over the back of a nearby chair. "I said you might need your own bed..."

And then Eric realizes Alan thinks he's brought someone back with him, that he's nearly naked for some woman, some person he barely knows.

"No," he says, shaking his head. "No, there's no one with me."

Alan is still standing, staring at Eric. He hesitates for a moment, but then he looks down with a slightly embarrassed expression and picks up his shirt anyway.

"I'd prefer not to sleep..." he hesitates, as if trying to choose his words carefully, "after you... well, afterwards. The same night that is. I'd prefer to sleep alone."

So Alan doesn't want to sleep with Eric right after he shags someone else. Eric finds this to be very reasonable if such rules were applicable, but they're not.

I didn't," he says simply. "I couldn't."

Alan just raises an eyebrow in confusion.

"I didn't _want _to," Eric finally says. "I don't want to. Not tonight," he adds, his voice growing softer as he moves toward Alan, "not tomorrow. Not ever."

He draws close and puts his hands around Alan's waist, sighing, as if relieved he's finally able to touch him.

"Are you sure?" Alan asks, his voice hesitant.

"Yes, I'm sure," Eric says. "Please...just don't leave."

"Very well," Alan replies softly.

Eric pushes his own pants off the rest of way so he's fully naked and pulls Alan against him, sliding his hands down from Alan's hips to go under the cotton pants and grip his ass.

Alan presses his forehead against Eric's chest and moans softly.

"I'm glad you're here," he admits, so quietly, Eric almost doesn't hear him.

He kisses the top of Alan's head in answer, and rubs his cheek against the soft, sleep mussed hair.

_So this is what it feels like to come "home."_

"I want you," Eric says simply.

Alan looks up at him and smiles very subtly as he pushes his hips suggestively against Eric's.

"I mean," Eric says, letting out a small moan as he feels the intoxicating press of Alan's body against his own, "fully."

Alan stops and looks up at Eric with a surprised expression and widened eyes.

It's not as if Eric hasn't wanted Alan, _"fully" _as he chooses to put it, from the beginning. Even though Eric has been exclusively with women until Alan, no one would accuse him of not being open-minded.

It's just that...barring all else that has been incredible so far, the first attempt at _"fully" _hadn't gone very well.

Eric is an attentive lover, but there are just some practical things one must learn from experience; such know what preparations to take, and to be cautious with an over zealous, distracted partner. Combined, the outcome is not good; _was_ not good.

Eric is tall, broad-shouldered and big; big all over, in fact, and Alan has different...equipment...than he's used to. Alan himself certainly isn't a novice, but when two people are a bit tipsy, falling through the front door in a tangle of limbs, intent on ripping each other's clothes off in a desperate, clumsy path to the bedroom, occasionally certain things are...forgotten. Or not paid as much attention to as they should be.

Alan hadn't been able to sit down for a week. Other reapers started noticing too - Grell had just given Eric a smirk and positively indecent wink, and William, completely baffled, had finally ordered Alan an ergonomic chair. He said it was because the fact that Alan insisted on standing during _every _meeting was beginning to "unnerve him."

The second time, they had been more careful, but Eric had been so nervous he couldn't keep things "moving along," until finally Alan had to get himself off with his own hand (at Eric's urging) as Eric had just stared at the floor, mortified.

But as always, Alan had pulled him to lie down and kissed him reassuringly, saying he understood, that it would happen in due time.

That was when Eric had dropped the clincher - he didn't think they should try again.

Alan had stiffened, then replied dejectedly, "Very well." He had rolled onto his side, away from Eric, to fall asleep.

That night, Eric had the experience for the first time of something _aching _somewhere inside of him, in his head or heart or some such nonsense he'd always thought was ridiculous. But sometimes, he'd realized as he stared at Alan's back, those so-called silly, human words were the only way to describe certain feelings.

Eric knew that they were also probably thinking the same thing: the unfairness of the fact that every random, meaningless shag Eric had ever had got to experience _that _with him, and Alan wouldn't.

The truth is, Eric is afraid. Afraid of being awful at it, afraid of Alan not enjoying it, or worse yet, of hurting him again. They're reapers, and physical injuries are generally minor inconveniences; but it's not so much about injury than it is about principle.

That, and a shag has never been this important. Shagging is one thing Eric is usually good at, and he doesn't like failing at things. Or more to the point: he doesn't like opening himself to the possibility of failing when he knows the stakes are too high. He's a casual sort of bloke; but nothing is casual with Alan.

Eric is startled out of his reverie as Alan replies, "I'd like that."

His voice is almost shy, and it reminds Eric of the first time anything ever happened between them.

It almost feels like that time now, as he slides the pants down over Alan's hips. They're so big on him they just fall to the floor.

"_Mm._.." is the only noise Alan makes in the back of his throat. It shoots directly to Eric's cock, and he moans.

Alan turns Eric toward the bed, kissing up his chest, and then pushing him onto his back.

Eric arches his back as Alan climbs on top of him, his knees on either side of Eric's hips as he leans forward to kiss Eric's neck and then bite at his nipples. His entire body bucks and he gasps.

One of the first things that Alan had learned about Eric: how sensitive his body is - something that Eric has tried to hide somewhat with his other partners; he's gotten some strange looks when he gasps from just a touch.

But as always, it's fine to lose control with Alan, show vulnerability and make desperate, soft noises. Alan just smiles slightly against Eric's skin when he hears the reaction.

Alan pulls back to watch, twisting and pinching at Eric's nipples as he whimpers, slowly starting to stroke his cock. Eric bends his knees up and spreads his legs open shamelessly, thrusting into Alan's hand.

He opens his eyes suddenly to look at Alan; Alan just meets his gaze and smiles slightly.

"Come here," Eric says softly, reaching out.

Alan looks surprised at the interruption, but he does as asked. He settles on top of Eric again as Eric leans forward to kiss him, and he kisses back.

Everything is focused on the press of their lips together, tongues sliding against each other, as Eric cups Alan's face with two hands.

He realizes, right at this moment, that he was telling the truth before in that woman's flat whose name he _still _can't remember - the words that had slipped out of his mouth. Words that he would have dismissed before as quickly as any reaper with common sense.

And then there was Alan, and words didn't make sense anymore.

Alan, who's broken the kiss, panting, running his fingertips affectionately over Eric's forehead before reaching into the nightstand drawer to retrieve the oil.

He hands it to Eric, but Eric pushes it back at him.

"If we're going to do this," he says, trying to sound calm and diplomatic (though really, he just sounds nervous), "I want to know how it feels first."

It takes a lot to surprise Alan in the bedroom, or at least in a way that causes him to hesitate. Alan is patient with inexperience, particularly where Eric is concerned, but now he raises a skeptical eyebrow.

"You want me to...?" he says, darting his eyes down below Eric's waist pointedly.

"Yes," Eric responds bluntly, then says more quietly, "I can't... unless I have _some_ idea of what it feels like." His face colors suddenly, and he adds, "..._Some _idea," and grabs Alan's fingers to make his point.

Alan just looks at him for a moment, evaluating.

"All right then," he finally replies. "But you have to relax."

Despite his words, suddenly there is a terrible, indecisive moment when Eric is the opposite of relaxed, wondering what in the bloody _hell_ he just signed himself up for, but then he hears Alan's voice.

"Don't be nervous."

It's sweet, and very Alan-like, and Eric frowns.

"I'm not _nervous_," he says gruffly. "I'm just..."

"Yes, yes," Alan says softly, and kisses Eric's chest.

Eric's mounting defenses are interrupted by the electric feeling of Alan's teeth against his nipple again, biting gently. Eric moans, forgetting whatever it was he was going to say, and arches his back.

"That's it," Alan says softly, "relax and just _feel_."

Eric tries to take the advice as Alan kisses down his body. When he gets to his hips though, Eric's eyes fly open as he hears a container being opened and Alan slicking his fingers up; but then he just uses them to stroke Eric's cock, spreading the oil over it as he gradually speeds up, and Eric's hips start to move with Alan's hand.

"Oh god," he moans, and when he hears Alan moan in return, his cock throbs.

He's so caught up in the noises, the slippery strokes, the looseness of his hips, he barely notices Alan pushing his legs further apart and bending his knees up.

But then, when Alan moves to push his legs _back_, to expose him completely, he tenses.

"I need you to hold your legs in place," Alan instructs calmly, and Eric feels his face heat. He may be adventurous, but this tests his boundaries, even with Alan.

Alan knows this all too well, and he kisses Eric's knee tenderly.

"I'd like to see all of you," he says simply.

Eric looks down, sees Alan bent forward between his legs, the familiar, _gorgeous _(Eric's word) lines of his body, the hard cock standing out between his legs; Alan wants this too.

Eric slowly hooks his hands under his knees and pulls them up and back, completely open and exposed, and then Alan just looks for a moment.

"Lovely, he says simply, looking up to meet Eric's eyes.

It's one of the most intimate moments Eric has ever experienced, and he shivers without meaning to.

Alan doesn't break eye contact as he presses one finger against Eric's entrance, rubbing a slick fingertip there.

Eric practically yelps - out of shock, but also because it feels so odd... so strange... _so bloody good_.

"I bet you're even more sensitive here," Alan guesses, stroking his finger slowly.

Eric's hands shake where he's holding his legs apart. He lets his head fall back against the pillow and opens his mouth.

"_Ah_, Alan... _Alan_..."

"Yes, Eric, let me hear you," Alan whispers, and bends forward to take Eric's cock into his mouth.

Eric no longer knows which way is up, which way is down, what plane he's on, or his own name. The only thing he can seem to say is Alan's name and desperate, unintelligible gibberish.

Alan draws back, and then Eric can feel the first finger push into him. He can't help the way his entire body tenses in response, even though any preconceived notions about what to expect from this act are quickly vanishing.

"Relax," Alan says soothingly, drawing his finger back out slowly to slick it up again. "Eric, you have to relax."

Eric closes his eyes and listens to Alan's voice, imagines it's him, doing this to Alan.

When he looks at the world through Alan's point of view, or tries, suddenly things seem much less frightening.

"Alright," he breathes, and tries to relax. Apparently he's somewhat successful, as Alan murmurs encouraging words, sliding his finger back into Eric.

"That's it," he whispers, slowly drawing his finger in and out, "does that feel nice?"

Eric is so beside himself with pleasure now, all he can do is eke out a quick, "Yes," before grabbing Alan's free hand where it's resting against his knee. Alan twines his fingers with Eric's and squeezes gently, reassuringly.

Alan starts to fuck him now with his finger, quick jerks in and out, slick and easy, and then he pushes in deeper and curls it. Eric's hips thrust forward and he cries out as an unexpected jolt of pleasure rushes through his body.

He starts to desperately pump his hips around Alan's finger, and then he feels something that hurts slightly, something stretching him open further.

"That's two," Alan says softly. "Would you like me to continue?"

"Yes," Eric breathes harshly.

_So this is what it feels like_, Eric thinks, as Alan's fingers slide in and out of him, speeding up when his body accepts the fact that this is _happening_. And finally, his mind and body connect, and he lets out a sharp, desperate cry.

"I'm going to..." He grabs Alan's hand and stops him, and Alan looks up in surprise from where he's been staring at his fingers moving in and out of Eric. "Wait," Eric gasps, "not yet."

Alan gets the idea and slowly pulls his fingers out.

Eric lets his legs go and Alan crawls up on top of him, cocks rubbing against each other, as Eric closes his eyes and clutches Alan to him tightly.

"Alan," he says quietly.

Yes, this is what he wants. Alan here with him; this is _all _he wants.

"Are you ready?" Alan asks, drawing back to look at Eric.

Eric nods, and Alan smiles a little.

He consoles himself with the fact that he at least knows how this part goes - Alan's hips tilted up, oil, fingers, slickness - only usually it ends either in Eric's mouth or his hand, followed by lots of touching.

That's the first thing that Eric had found out about Alan: Alan likes to touch. He likes to touch every part he can, as if reminding himself that everything happening _is_, in fact, happening. After he comes, he likes to kiss down Eric's body, running his fingers over every part he can reach.

Now, Eric touches Alan as he fucks him with his fingers, Alan's legs hooked over his shoulders. He runs his free hand over hips, legs, knees, any part he can reach.

"Eric," Alan moans, but there's a request there too.

"Yes," Eric says, understanding, pulling his fingers out and kissing Alan's inner thigh.

Alan sits up, his face damp with sweat, his hair hanging in his eyes, and grabs Eric to change their positions, pushing him onto his back.

Eric just stares at him as Alan climbs on top of him and leans forward to kiss him sloppily on the mouth. Eric tangles his fingers in Alan's hair and then smooths down his back as they kiss, and eventually Alan pulls back.

He sits up straight and and rubs their cocks together, both painfully erect, and Eric groans.

Alan reaches for Eric's cock and slicks some more oil over it, stroking a few times, and leans back.

"Part your legs a bit," he says softly, and Eric pushes his legs apart slightly as Alan settles his knees around Eric's hips.

He grasps Eric's cock and guides it slowly into his body, lowering himself very gradually.

Eric can't speak; he can only rest his hands on Alan's thighs, gripping harder and harder, until Alan lets out an pained sound.

"What did I do?" Eric says, his voice anxious and his eyes searching Alan's face.

Alan stops, Eric's cock halfway inside of him, and then he gives a sort of half laugh. It's a very quiet sound, one that is on its way to becoming a moan, but he controls himself.

"Your hands," he says, looking down at Eric. He adjusts himself a bit more so that Eric stays inside of him and puts his hands on top of Eric's. "Not so hard."

Eric immediately releases his death grip and tenses in embarrassment.

Alan's face softens, and Eric realizes he's fully inside him, Alan's inner thighs settled against his hips.

"Relax," he says softly, leaning forward to very slowly roll his hips and kiss Eric gently on the mouth. "Do I feel nice?" he breathes.

Eric feels like he can't speak at first; there aren't any words that could describe what he's feeling anyway. Alan's body moves so fluidly, so easily; and Eric realizes that, for once, he's the novice here.

He finally manages a shuddery whisper of, "Alan..."

Alan leans forward so that their chests are pressed together as he starts to move his hips in perfect, smooth motions, so slow and _intimate _that Eric isn't even sure what to do except let Alan guide their rhythm.

It's never been like this with anyone.

"Yes," Eric groans, "yes."

Alan starts to go faster, pressing his lips to Eric's. Eric's arms go around him, and they don't even kiss; their mouths just stay pressed there as they breathe against each other harshly.

And then everything is frenetic, desperate as Alan kisses down Eric's face and then straightens to lean back as he starts to slide up and down Eric's cock in quick, jerky motions, lifting himself up and then dropping down so that each time his skin slaps against Eric's in an obscene, _beautiful _sound.

Eric's never seen Alan like this - desperate and writhing and corporeal - his body shivering as he's forced open, his head tilted back slightly and his mouth hanging open.

Alan's movements get so fast that it feels like he's crashing against Eric with every drop of his hips, heavy and desperate, as Eric grips his ass.

Eric wants to touch. He wants Alan against him, he wants him closer.

"Alan," Eric grits out, and Alan slows down for a moment. "Can I sit up?"

He's done it with women before - never particularly liked the position because it's just a bit _too _personal, even though it feels good - but that's exactly what he's looking for right now.

"Yes," Alan gasps, as if trying to gather his wits in order to formulate a proper response. "Just go slowly."

Eric gingerly pulls himself up to lean on his elbows, and then he sees Alan properly.

He's vulnerable, his eyes wide and his face sweat slicked, and Eric realizes they're in the same space.

"It feels good," Eric murmurs, moving to sit up properly.

He wraps his arms around Alan, pulling him close so that Alan has to adjust and scrabble his feet against the bed to gain purchase, inevitably balancing all his weight against his ass, forcing Eric's cock deeper and at a different angle. His legs tighten and his arms fly around Eric's neck as he gives into the fact that he no longer has any control.

"Eric," he cries, almost sobbing, "oh god, Eric."

"Yes, yes," Eric whispers into his ear, kissing it. He hesitates, and then asks, "Does it hurt?"

"No," Alan replies breathlessly.

Eric replies in a quiet voice, as if someone might hear him, "Just tell me."

Then he lifts Alan slightly, using his full strength, and begins to thrust upwards in short, harsh jerks, similar to what Alan was doing himself.

"Oh yes, _yes_, that's it," he groans into Alan's ear, his movements almost violent as he works his cock in and out of that perfect, tight heat.

"Oh, there," Alan whispers in a moan as Eric hits something inside him, "right there."

"Here?" Eric asks, jerking his hips up at the same place.

"Yes, _there_," Alan cries out. "I need to...I need..."

Eric kisses his shoulder and slows down; he releases Alan from his embrace and lies back down against the bed, letting Alan regain his balance.

"I want you to for me," he says softly, looking up.

Alan's hair is matted against his face and he's slicked in a fine sheen of sweat, completely rumpled and wanton and unaware.

He's beautiful. He's so beautiful, and when Eric starts to strokes his cock, eventually bringing him to completion, he comes hard, doubling over against Eric's chest.

No, it's never been like this with anyone else.

Alan keeps going after he comes, pumping his hips hard as he whispers, "_Eric...my Eric_," his voice raw and vulnerable.

When Eric comes, he feels like he no longer has control of his body. His thoughts stop, all self awareness ceases, and all he can feel are Alan's lips against his cheek, all he can smell is Alan's skin, all he can hear is Alan's voice in his ear, whispering things.

He listens more closely, and yes, he heard it. Those same words he himself had said before.

Silly, terrible, human words. Cliche, foolish words; a language spoken only for those that die, fear, and love.

Alan knows what death means; he feels it and empathizes with it all the time, whether he wants to or not.

Eric knows what fear is, because he knows Alan, and he has finally found something he wants to keep, something that matters, something he doesn't want to lose.

"Yes," he finally utters when Alan goes quiet, and the air has gone thick with embarrassment and tension because Eric hasn't said anything.

He wraps his arms around Alan tightly and nods. "Yes," he says again, "yes."

Alan exhales, and Eric exhales, and then they lie together in blissful silence, tangled up in each other's arms and legs.

Eric Slingby is in a strange mood, and there's really no other way he'd rather be.


End file.
